


Thinker, traitor, soldier, spy

by ancientwinters



Category: Baldur's Gate, Forgotten Realms
Genre: Diary/Journal, F/M, Gen, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancientwinters/pseuds/ancientwinters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is more than one way in which epic stories are told. Narrated by those who first wrote them with their decisions and later, actions they might seem ambiguous, subdued, somehow smaller, but this is exactly what makes them true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soldier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blueinkedfrost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueinkedfrost/gifts).



> This attempt at journal-like retelling (with a twist!) of Baldur's Gate events as seen by their participants and witnesses was written for **Blueinkedfrost** thanks to whom I discovered Yule in the first place. I am eternally grateful for that!
> 
> So, let's obsess together over how amazing those characters are. I wish I'd be able to publish more of them at once, but since it's essentially a collection of drabbles that can be continued until eternity, I'll do it one at a time, once I manage to dig them out from under a pile of drafts and Christmas-related duties.
> 
>   **Happy Yule, everyone :)**

_Thinker, traitor, soldier, spy_  
 _Rich Man, Poor Man,_  
 _Beggar, Thief._

 

**I**  
 **Soldier**

I cannot help reminiscing over and over again the first time her glance froze like this when it fell on me. I was absolutely certain some kind of jaded comment will follow. It did not. What I got was a compliment.  
This keeps happening over and over again, but now it's not me who expects contempt. After a few years it became our special way in which she shows affection and, I am not ashamed to admit that to myself anymore, admiration. Everybody listens to her, looks at her, argues with her. In their eyes I am not even a decoration, merely an added value designed to carry her gear around. And then it turns out that I am so much more than that. But it doesn't mean that my self-respect depends on her, no. She gave it to me when I didn't even know how it tasted like, and it grew. Now we share it, together with meaningful winks over cups full of Evermead and in between talks dominated by outspoken people and obviously not me.  
That's exactly what will start right about... now. This tavern isn't even half as promising in this respect as some lavish city inns where our sort usually comes with much sought for-gossip. I can tell that the owner, an ancient gnome, knows this game perfectly well, watching us with a lopsided smile. What myself I know is, he watches not just us, but us being watched, by a man sitting two tables further away and pulling threads from his cuff. The tabletop is already covered in green fibres, a few floating on the surface of his wine, like a seaweed. Nervous. I don't suppose we know him. I hope we won't get to know him, in any way. From a careful glance Jaheira just sent me, no matter that combined with truly charming smile, I can say for sure that her conclusions are exactly the same. So we wait.

She was right.

The man in a shabby robe left hastily. There is some kind of quarrel downstairs. We won't see him again anytime soon, or ever, most probably. I suppose that waiting was worth the while after all.

I wasn't expecting anything in particular from this kid, nevertheless, what I got is still surprising. But this, this is what death of dear ones does to those who were left behind, I suppose. Changes children into incomplete, damaged grown-ups, in a few heartbeats. It seems that at least some of them are capable of forging this into strength. Gorion turned out to be ingenious even in his demise, sending his ward to us, but in this exact case I will accept my ostensible fate of a luggage-carrier. Jaheira is the gifted one when it comes to such matters, and sadly, also the most experienced.  
Ah, right, I forgot. We got two kids instead of one. The other one is a loud, perpetually giggling bumblebee with apparently bottomless stash of fuchsia-hued garments. The balance in nature is maintained, I believe.


	2. Thinker

**II**   
**Thinker**

This, this is precisely what I wished we could have avoided. Untimely and atrocious and for what reason, greed? Hate? Something even more dire? Whichever it was, this is not the kind of death that should've taken him. This kind of death is not nature's way, but our own invention, efficient and relentless, like everything we do...  
Still, what happened, happened and there is no other choice but to act. I would consider the last few days of doing exactly this a success if not for the reason behind actions undertaken.  
Yes, I was mostly skeptical towards the idea of approaching the issue as a newly-formed and absolutely unprepared team. Yet leaving two desperate adolescents behind even in the safest place possible, not that I believe there are any of those left, was completely out of question. So in the end, we followed the lead southwards together.

(One would have to be blind and deaf not to notice how people, the full variety of them, seem to be drawn towards the one my dearest friend made his own child, calm and quiet just like he was. No matter what they say, I will not depreciate one's tools of the trade only because they are not mine. Not that I have to announce that.)

Hours - or was it days? - spent undergound were the most unsettling. There were moments in which I almost forgot what sunlight is. I almost gave up believing that the surface world exists at all. I almost commiserated with the drow, finally understanding what such thick, choking darkness does with one's mind if exposed to it constantly; memories eroding, colours, time and sky slowly turning from the most basic experiences into abstract words. Yet one familiar face was enough to be reminded about them being very real. Still familiar despite the eerie not-light among darkness which is everything that night is not.

(You consider me the the stronger one of us two, my dearest, but what is strength without hope and kindness? I know, you don't need to hear those words I'm unable to articulate as often as I feel I should.)

We made it out. Us, and not just knowledge, but the proof that issue we were asked to deal with is far more than just a small hassle. This is a conspiracy and the sheer attempt to imagine its scale falls beyond the limit of what's healthy for one's mind.


	3. Thief

**III**   
**Thief**

Who said that I ever wanted to be a bandit?! _Really?_ Since when being clever _and_ resourceful _and_ curious _and being a bandit_ is the same thing? Fine, I know it's just a kind of play-pretend, but anyway, I can see it's more than a bit risky, so, no way you'd manage to pull this off without me, team. Nah, not team! Gang!

Anyway. Those guys trying to kill us don't seem to wear off. So, I thought, if they're so desperate, maybe it's better to do this on our terms. I mean, who'd ever thought about killing you if you're famous? Noone, or at least, not many people. Same as not famous even the tiniest bit but I think it's been far too late for this for awhile now. Of course once we become famous thanks to solving this iron behaving funny thing there will be still people trying to kill us, very serious ones, but fewer of them, we won't be alone anymore and finally able to do stuff!  
So, how I'm going to do that. This first guy, the shabby guy with a stick, he left some things behind. Nobody, like, _nobody_ _but me_ has _any_ idea how that feels, to basically live in a library which is a fortress and be forced to sneak inside in order to read anything moderately interesting! There's some pretty decent stuff lying around all the time, for the guests, but how could I limit myself to that when I know what they keep locked? Well, possibly I'd be allowed to study properly in a few months. Something about being mature enough. Nobody knows how old I am exactly though, so whatever! But. Now it's terribly out of date, this studying thing, eh. Can't go back, no way. And even if I could, I wouldn't. I'd have never left in the first place, thinking like this. Not my thing. What I have left now is some shabby guy's equally shabby spellbook, a pair of grumpy aunts and a buddy who has no idea what to do with their life. Could be waaaay worse.

Back to bandit business. It won't be very long before they find out who we are, but enough for me to take a sneak peek at what they're keeping inside this smelly place of theirs. We'll deliver the news to whoever's paid for dealing with this kind of thing and after that we'll be famous enough for me to stop pretending that I consider this adventuring mess fun. I guess it's only fun when you hear other people fudge about it.


End file.
